


On the Life of Queen and Consort

by fioreofthemarch



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Domestic, F/M, First Person, Memoir, Royal life, Zelink Angst, Zelink Week, life biography, zelink, zelink fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-01-30 18:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12658752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fioreofthemarch/pseuds/fioreofthemarch
Summary: Few know me. I was the Queen’s left hand and the Consort’s right. I was their first, best and last friend. But above all, I was their advisor, and now that my tenure has ended, it is time to write their story.After 100 years apart, Link and Zelda finally unite to rebuild their Kingdom. Their reign together is long, with triumphs and heartbreaks as they navigate Royal life, raising children, conquering fears and growing old in a Kingdom beset by peace. Now at its end, their Chief Advisor Larella sits down to write the history of their reign, having beared witness to much of their lives.Part of Zelink Week 2017 - this is a ten part series that looks into the partnership and later life of Link and Zelda as Queen and Consort of Hyrule.





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This work was written for Zelink Week 2017, and the prompt list can be found [here](https://semanazelink.tumblr.com/post/163815353065/zelink-week-2017-we-are-pleased-to)
> 
> You can follow me on [Tumblr](rachaeltad-writes.tumblr.com) where I post flash fiction and prompts that don't make it to AO3. 
> 
> As a small note, this work is loosely canon with my major BOTW work, [From the Ground Up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10515429/chapters/23208210)

_The following is an excerpt from the introduction to ‘On the Life of Queen and Consort: An Official History of the first Queen Zelda in Hyrule following the Calamity’ by Larella of Zora’s Domain._

When I was employed in the service of Queen Zelda of Hyrule, one of my many duties was to remember. Dates, numbers, names, laws and protocols; and so I fancy myself to have a precise and robust memory. Few remember  _me_ , however. I was the Queen’s left hand, and her Consort’s right. I was their first, best and last friend. But above all, I was their advisor, and now that my tenure is almost at its end, it is time to write their story.

It has been now almost 171 years since the Great Calamity, and 70 years since the Dark Beast Ganon was sealed away by the Queen herself. I served as Chief Advisor in Hyrule Castle for almost that entire time. I have only recently been released from my service, but not by choice.

I consider it the Goddess’ blessing that Zelda is still with us, but she is ailing. I want to finish this as soon as possible, so that she may remember as well. Recently she has begun to forget. There is an…emptiness to her that we have both seen before, in a similar circumstance. But I do not wish to dwell on the present and all of its melancholy. There is so much to write!

To allow a small indulgence into my background, I met the Queen when she was simply ‘Princess Zelda’, in the months following Ganon’s sealing. I was a young Ambassador then, untrained in the complexity of politics, but she trusted me and named me her Chief Advisor when it came time to rebuild her regency. Her consort too went out of his way to protect me many a time. It is this trust and friendship that they both extended to me that I know I will never forget, even if all else must go. This is why I must write this history for Zelda. So that she will not forget either.

* * *

_From the chapter titled ‘Link’s Awakening.’_

Before His Highness was Prince Consort, we knew him just as Master Link, or sometimes as ‘Champion’, for the age-old order that he belonged to in Hyrule before the Calamity. Raised a Knight, Link was not one for politics, despite having spent time at court with Zelda. And so when the proposal was made that he and Zelda should marry, the Knight naturally had concerns. Not of marriage itself; in fact, Link was ecstatic at the proposition. He and Zelda had settled into a comfortable courtship that by then had lasted about two years. The Knight would never admit it, but a part of him enjoyed knowing he was the envy of every young-blooded Hylian in the Kingdom. Many had eyes for the Queen, but the Queen only had eyes for Link.

No, it was not the possibility of spending his life with the woman he was so clearly besotted with that gave Master Link pause. It was the  _politics_  that terrified him.

The day after the announcement of the engagement, Link found me in my study. He appeared a strange and shy shadow of himself. Gone was the strength of the young Knight and the determination of the Hero!

“I don’t know how to admit it,” he told me. “But the idea of a royal life makes me so nervous I could be sick.”

“Have you spoken with the Queen?” I asked him. Yes was the answer, and that she had assured him she would always be at his side, and that he would never be expected to take on as many duties as her.

“And none of it helped?” I asked.

“None of it helped.”

Standing from my desk, and I went to my bookshelf and pulled a small but thick tome, bound in fresh leather. The pages were still clean.  _On the Governance of New Hyrule (with lessons from the old)._ A book of laws and protocols for court and council that the Queen and I had spent the past two years developing.

“I can’t pretend ruling isn’t difficult, or at times dreary, but I find nothing gives me more confidence than processes!” I smiled, handing him the heavy book. I could tell the young Knight didn’t share my enthusiasm as he began to slowly leaf through the pages, his brows upturned as he read its small print.

He shut the book with an emphatic thump. “Zelda helped write this?”

“That she did. Every word,” I nodded proudly.

Face now softened, with a look of purpose returned to him, the Knight took the book of laws and left my study, but not before thanking me for my help. The next I saw him was at the meeting of the Hyrule Council, bright and early the following day. Master Link had not attended previously, always either off in the wild somewhere, or at training with his Knights, However, that morning he ambled into the council chamber, with  _On the Governance of New Hyrule_  in hand, and took his place beside Zelda. The young Queen seemed torn between abject shock and quiet glee, but she contained herself as ever and proceeded with the meeting.

It was not until halfway through that we did realise that Link’s silence was not a product of patient listening but rather deep sleep; he had drifted off with that heavy tome still in hand, and snored so loud the whole council paused to look.

The Queen was ever the diplomat. Without waking Master Link, she tactfully explained that she had sent him on a night-time mission the evening prior and that his weariness was entirely her fault. The meeting ended, and not once did the Knight stir.

After the councillors had departed, and we were left to ourselves, Zelda placed her hands on Link’s to usher him from his sleep.

“Wake up now, sleepyhead,” she teased, and in an instant Master Link was wide awake.

“Did I…?” he said, looking around the empty chamber. “Did I miss the meeting?”

“All of it!” Zelda laughed, leaning toward to kiss his forehead. “Not that there was much to miss.”

“I was up all night reading!” he explained, tossing the book of laws onto the table. “At Larella’s suggestion. I wanted to understand.”

The Queen tightened her hands around Link’s, visibly moved but dismayed as well. “I told you, that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to - not just because you are to be Consort.”

But Master Link would not be swayed in his devotion. “I want to support you, that’s what I want.” And that was that. The Queen released Link’s hands from hers and pushed  _On the Governance of New Hyrule_  back towards him.

“Well, I would be glad for it,” she told him. “But from now on, read during the daytime, sleepyhead.”


	2. Daily Life

_The following is an excerpt from the chapter titled ‘Daily Bread’, from ‘On the Life of Queen and Consort: An Official History of the first Queen Zelda in Hyrule following the Calamity’ by Larella of Zora’s Domain._

In the early years of her reign, Queen Zelda was occasionally described as  _naive_ , or standoffish, or perhaps demanding. Yes, ‘demanding’ I think is the best way to describe the Queen.

You see, there are few in history and fewer living who can understand the full extent of what the Queen endured in her youth. It is hardly a surprise that once she ascended to her throne, she demanded the best of everyone – as it had been demanded of her. Her unique youth made her unbreakable, but almost entirely removed from the concept of a daily life. The Queen had always been surrounded by attendants and cooks and workers, at all times. She had never stepped foot in a kitchen, much less cooked a meal.

It was decided then, when the Queen noticed how well-loved her Prince Consort Link was by the common people, that she should become better acquainted with their lives. I will admit that at the time, I objected. I was always fearful for her safety then, as I am now. That aside, I feared the Queen and her Consort would be swarmed by the commoners, and learn nothing! 

But the pair objected in return. I can remember Link’s voice clearly,

“It’ll be good for them to see her, as she is,” the Prince assured me. “And I know Zelda can look after herself.”

“You forget, Larella,” the Queen added, passing a sly look at her Consort, “I have my  _appointed Knight_  to protect me.”

If nothing else, I insisted that  _I_  accompany them at the very least – and so the compromise was made. Bright and early one Spring morning we travelled to Castle Town on foot, with Queen and Consort dressed in plain traveller’s clothes. Shed of her royal regalia and golden jewels, she appeared simply as a youthful, vibrant Hylian woman, though it was hard to classify her as  _ordinary_. The Prince Consort, however, had a natural ease that allowed him to blend into the crowd and so he was given the task of leading us on our tour.

First, we passed through a sleepy street of neatly packed houses and watched as the early-risers met to sweep the cobble, hang washing, and talk about their day. Once we reached the markets, we spent the rest of the morning we spent there, visiting every shop and making friends with the shop owners; a tailor, the grocers, the carpenters and builders, the florists and shoe-makers. The Queen wanted to talk to them all and learn their stories. To my surprise, she was only recognised once – by the baker of all people!

“I was at your Coronation, Your Highness,” the burley Hylian man told her. “And the wedding too.”

“Were you invited then?” I demanded, having presided over the guest lists myself.

“Well I wasn’t  _there_ ,” the baker admitted timidly. “But I saw your procession, and when it came time for you to enter the Castle, I climbed that there banner pole to watch!”

“Such devotion - I don’t think we deserved it!” the Queen said, but the baker shook his head.

“We all live in peace because of you. Both of you. Even to offer you some of my bread is an honour,” and with that, the baker was pawing through his freshest loaves, taking one in hand to give to the Queen.

“You made this?” Zelda asked. “Was it difficult?”

“Oh only a little!” the baker chortled. “Being a baker is an early rise, perhaps.”

“Baking’s easy, Zel,” Master Link said. “Just flour and water.”

“Flour and water,” the Queen repeated. Something changed in her then; as though she couldn’t fathom what she held in her hands. “I don’t deserve this,” she said quietly.

When we returned to the Castle in the mid-afternoon, the Queen sent us both away, wishing to be alone, but told the Prince Consort to meet her in their dining quarters that evening. The Queen and Consort often ate alone, to talk privately, or find peace from the business of the Castle, and so we thought little of her request.

The rest is an account from Master Link himself, told in the days following that evening. Dutifully as ever, he had waited in their dining room for Zelda – only she was not there and did not appear for well over an hour. Searching high and low, he finally found her in the kitchens, covered in flour and sweat and conducting her own vigil by one of the enormous ovens.

“Ambitions for a change of career?” he said as he entered the kitchens. At that, the frustrated young Queen scrambled to her feet and donned a pair of cotton mitts to pry open the oven, not content to wait any longer. What greeted her from within that furnace was apparently a very flat, and very misshapen loaf of slightly burnt bread.

“This was my fault. I wanted no help, not even when the cook insisted,” she frowned, taking the loaf in hand. However, when she turned back to Master Link, he had already found for them a cutting board and knife, as well as a stick of butter.  

“No,” protested the Queen immediately. “We can’t eat  _this_.”

Master Link was already preparing the dice up the bread. “You made it, of course we can,” he said as he cut two slices of the paltry loaf. “You wanted to understand the baker’s struggles as well as your own – I see that.”

I was told that the bread was perfectly _edible_. I believe edible was the word Master Link used.

“You didn’t happen to forget the baking powder?” Link queried after finished his first bite.

“You said, ‘flour and water’” Zelda argued back. “ _Just flour and water,_ Zelda,  _it’s easy!_ ”

And yet, despite any of its shortcomings, Zelda would later tell me that her Consort ate the loaf in its entirety. 

“Food fit for a King,” he had said, apparently accompanying the praise with a wink. “Though technically, I wouldn’t know what that’s like.”


	3. Perfume

_The following is an excerpt from the chapter titled ‘Perfume of Life’, from ‘On the Life of Queen and Consort: An Official History of the first Queen Zelda in Hyrule following the Calamity’ by Larella of Zora’s Domain._

Just as Hyrule is made by its people, so too is it defined by its nature and the vastness of its history-laden lands. Even as we rebuild from the Calamity, the endeavours of civilisation cannot dominate. The grass grows thick and lush in the fields. The rivers rage in autumn just as in spring. The Mountain watches over us all, dormant, but with untamable ferocity. And when the skies open, not even a Queen can dictate. We are, as we have always been, at the mercy of the wild.

For the first decade and a half, Queen Zelda’s reign was marked by unprecedented prosperity. Each harvest was bountiful, each Summer was long and mild, and each Winter, while harsh, was endurable. We never thought that change would come. We had never prepared for it.

But one hundred and twenty years after the Calamity, change did come. The rains stopped. The grass died, and the rivers grew quiet. We went a summer without rain and half the fall as well, and the harvest that came in was so pithy and feeble that half of it was given to mulch and pig slop. There were stores – we had the foresight to stockpile food for the Winter at least – but it was not much. And there were things that we could not save; the flowers for one. The Queen loved the flowers that filled Hyrule, especially those on Hyrule Field itself. That was her doorstep, her domain despite all else, and when the flowers died, I saw the Queen wither as well.

“Do you think the flowers will ever grow back?” I recall her lamenting one evening, while we were alone in her study. “So many species could be wiped out by this blasted drought. Do you know, Larella, that my children have never even seen a Silent Princess? They’re so rare…and, well…” she added with a laugh. “Micah might not mind, but little Zeldie. She’s so much like I was. Always worried, but never for herself!”

The children – a boy of thirteen, and a girl two years younger. They had been shielded from most of the perils of Royal Life until that point; the gossip, the public eye, and the weight of responsibility. But not for much longer, and the drought was a teachable moment for both of them;  _change is inevitable_.

“I am sure this will not last forever,” I assured the Queen. “Hyrule is thousands upon thousands of years old. What can a lack of rain do that hasn’t been done before?”

“Many things. We cannot defeat  _rain_ ,” the Queen frowned. She sighed, allowing herself a moment of weakness, allowing a crack in that hard exterior she had created as Queen that only myself and the Prince Consort ever saw. “I miss the smell of rain, you know, and the Silent Princesses too,” she said. “They hold…many memories for me.”

When Winter passed, and no improvement in the weather came, the Queen proposed to the other races – my people in particular – the possibility of  _drilling_  for water. She had read that much of it was stored underground, and knew that if another year passed of drought, the Kingdom would fall into genuine peril. The negotiations were fraught, and all together immensely stressful, as no one wanted it to be  _their_  land that was marred or  _their_ responsibility to save the Kingdom. Amidst it all, the Queen was nearly at her wit’s end. Master Link had told me privately that she rarely slept, and often wept in his arms from the sheer pressure of it all.

“Tell the Queen I have urgent business in Kakariko,” the Prince told me one morning, while the negotiations were still running. “If she needs anything tell her to send word to Elder Paya. We will not be long.”

“ _We_?” I pressed.

“I’m taking Micah,” The Prince Consort answered.

“But he’s still a boy,” I protested.

“Perfect time for his first adventure then,” The Prince placed a gentle hand on my arm. “Tell Zelda not to worry. And that I love her. And believe in her too.”

There was no stopping him. The Prince Consort was a force of his own by those days. Some men would not be content to live, by the technicality of Royal Status, in the shadow of their wives. Master Link, however, needed neither power nor acclaim to be happy. He was okay if Zelda was too. And so he took his son east to Necluda and into the misty mountains that were found there. I learnt later that young Micah fought his first Chuchu then and proudly carried that foul jelly as some sort of trophy all the way back to the Castle.

It was not Chuchu jelly however that Link wanted to find. It was a certain, rare flower, known to grow and flourish in strange places – and so to a Fairy Fountain was where Link went. With his son’s help, he found and transported a single Silent Princess all the way back to Hyrule Castle, and somehow it did not wilt by the time they returned. He gathered his family together in the Queen’s study, and unveiled the mystical flower, still proud and tall and giving off a diffuse glow. As the children marvelled over it and took turns stroking the delicate petals, the Prince Consort turned to his Queen and said,

“It survived. And so will we.”

Now, while time may have potentially fogged my memory, I dislike relying on rumour and embellishments to tell a story. But I know that when this story is retold, by close friends and commoners alike, and by both of the Queen and Consort’s children, the tellers claim that at that moment, the drought broke. The day that Master Link returned with the flower, the sky opened, and it began to rain in Hyrule once again!

Did the Prince’s love seemingly save Hyrule? Or is it all just fanciful nonsense? I happen to know the truth, but I think, now, that it doesn’t really matter.


	4. Dark Side

_The following is an excerpt from the chapter titled ‘A Dark Choice’, from ‘On the Life of Queen and Consort: An Official History of the first Queen Zelda in Hyrule following the Calamity’ by Larella of Zora’s Domain._

I am not one for boasting, but allow me to tell of at least one accomplishment; I was the longest-serving member of the Royal household. Perhaps this is unsurprising – I am a Zora after all, and I began my service the same day that the new Kingdom was re-established.

During my tenure, I have seen many pass through the Royal service. Some take to it well, as though born to it. Others become burnt out within months. I have seen breakdowns, shouting matches, and all manner of transgression. In the Court too, I have seen meteoric rises, and falls just as dramatic. And yet, of all the youthful hearts I have seen embittered by Royal life, I saw none grow as hard as the Queen’s.

It was two decades into Zelda’s reign that the Goddess finally deigned to test her fervour once and for all. Even now it is difficult to reflect on. Two of our servants were found to have betrayed the throne; a young member of the treasury, and his lover, one of the kitchen maids. They had been stealing coin from the Royal reserves and were planning to have the Royal Treasurer ‘deposed’ so that the young treasury member could take his place.

I can still see the Queen’s face when they were brought before her. It was not disgust, but something closer to heartbreak.  _How could they do this?_  She asked me later.  _When we have worked so hard to ensure all have peaceful, happy lives?_

All of Court were there to watch, and the Queen’s husband and children as well. Well, by then they were not quite children anymore. The boy, Micah, was almost seventeen and was the image of his father. The girl, little Zelda, had all the grace and poise of her mother, as well as the shining human decency of her father. The Queen and Consort’s children would later be their greatest test, but that is a story for another time.

The Queen’s retribution against the betrayers was swift and decisive. Their crime was treason, after all. But the punishment itself has a dark flavour, as though resisting being put to the page.  _Execution_.  _Beheading_.

Age makes us brittle, and so we harden ourselves in response. The Queen herself was forty by then, approaching the second half of her life. It was not the brutality of the decision that surprised me; I have written at length about Zelda’s own hardships. One could expect her to adopt a certain…ferocity, after so long under so much pressure, and at the helm of a fledgeling Kingdom that relied on her strength.

It was her family – her  _children_  – that surprised us. Following the outcry that filled the Court at the call to execute to young Hylians, and the family retreated to their private chambers. The Queen flung herself onto a chaise, her head in her hands, while the Prince Consort began to light a fire in the hearth with the assistance of his son. The little Princess, however, paced the room, until she was the first to finally speak. She turned to the Prince Consort and said,

“Surely you can’t allow this, Father? You reign as well, don’t you?”

The Prince Consort, however, with his ageing face now gathering lines, looked up from his work with a weary smile and, “I trust your Mother, as I trust her decisions.”

“But you can’t allow this!” argued the Princess.

“He has to,” piped up the young Prince, Micah, who had seemed to find the whole debacle somewhat entertaining. “He’s Mother’s subordinate, little one, shouldn’t you know that from all your lessons?”

The Princess would not be soothed. “That maid was your age, Micah,” she said. “Don’t you care?”

“No, I don’t care,” the boy stood, towering over his sister. “In fact, I agree with Mother. They tried to steal from us, tried to murder Mother’s advisor. Let them suffer.”

How distraught that young Princess was, but how passionate too. In desperation, she went to her mother’s side. “Is death the only answer?” she pleaded to the Queen, but Zelda would not speak. 

As a final blow, before she stormed from the room, the little Princess met the Queen’s eyes and said. “This isn’t like you. This isn’t what my mother would do.”

The Queen chased after her daughter, calling on her to understand, but returned not five minutes later, face distraught and the matter unresolved. By then the Prince Consort had stoked the fire to its fullest, and Micah had stolen off to sword practice, having grown bored of the bickering.

Queen Zelda met her husband by the fire, her facade gone, and said quietly, “What if Zeldie is right? Those two Hylians, they are the same age we were when…when it all happened. You said you will always trust me, but tell me true, Link. What do you believe?”

The Prince Consort did not hesitate; there was never anything but honesty between them. He placed his hands on the Queen’s shoulders. “I believe our daughter has a good heart and a fiery spirit, just like her mother.”

“You agree with her then?” the Queen asked.

Link laughed and rolled his eyes, “Well… we don’t see eye to eye on all things. Zeldie’s study habits for example. But I agree with one thing.”

“Yes?”

When the Prince Consort spoke, I heard his voice as though twenty years had not passed – as though he and Zelda were young, and innocent once again. “Why must death be the only answer? What would we have chosen, were we younger and free, as she is?”

The Queen thought on his words for a long time, eyes fixed on the flames.  _What would we do?_ What legacy were she and her husband creating for their children? What kind of home had they fought so hard to build?

At last, the Queen turned to me and said, “Larella. I have changed my mind. Exile the prisoners to the Gerudo Wastes. Tell them to live their lives true, but that if I ever see them north of the Geldarm Bridge, I will not heed my daughter’s words a second time.”


	5. Grief

****

_The following is an excerpt from the chapter titled ‘The Prince Consort’s Grief’, from ‘On the Life of Queen and Consort: An Official History of the first Queen Zelda in Hyrule following the Calamity’ by Larella of Zora’s Domain._  

All things end, don’t they? The Zora see so much more of time than an ordinary resident of Hyrule will. Our Hylian friends grow old while we remain young. Villages are built, villages are abandoned. Seasons come and go in cycles innumerable. Rivers flow. Grass dies. Lives begin and then, when I feel I have only just blinked – lives end.

It has been eight years since Link left us.

In the months before his passing, I travelled with the Queen and Consort to the Akkalan coast, leaving their children to manage Royal affairs back at the Castle. Link wanted to see the ocean again, one last time, knowing that soon both he and Zelda would be too frail to travel so far.

“Where is my horse?” the Prince Consort asked upon seeing the carriage I had prepared for them.

“It is too dangerous to ride, sweet one,” the Queen soothed, leading Link into the carriage. “The open air, and the cold–”

“I can handle the cold!” the Consort snapped, shaking himself free, before being overcome by a fit of coughing. Begrudgingly, recovering, he continued on towards the carriage, grumbling, “At least I  _could_ , once.”

Never in my service have a met a Knight who lived past eighty-one, the Prince Consort included. Link was, in fact, the old Knight I ever knew. Those born to fight, and to protect, don’t often meet with gentle deaths. And if they do not die in battle as their order has such a fond predilection for, then they do not age gently either. Like a scholar slowly losing his mental acuity, or a financier with dwindling wealth – a Knight with a decaying body begins to lose his very purpose.

Even so, during that last trip to Akkala, the Consort was the happiest that I saw him in his final days. After a short rest stop at Akkala Citadel, he and the Queen went to the cliffs at the coast – to where the world ends. Turning south the Consort proclaimed he could see their entire Kingdom; all that they had built together, and the many years they had been given.  _The Goddess’ truest blessing_ , he called it.

That night he became confused and believed we would be staying at the nearby Stables, as he had in his youth. Not even the Queen could soothe him then – the Prince Consort was adamant that they were to sleep at the Stables and not at Akkala Citadel as planned.

“I don’t need to be coddled, Zelda!” he cried, refusing to return to our carriage. “I am a Knight!”

“I know you are, sweetheart, I know!” said the Queen, taking her husband into her arms.

“Then treat me like one!” he said with agony. The Queen, even with her frail arms, held him tight.

“You  _are_  a Knight,” she whispered. “ _My_ Knight. And I need you to help me to safety – to the Citadel. Can you do that for me?”

Only then did the Prince Consort relent. Given purpose again, he ‘escorted’ us back to the carriage, and to the Citadel.

As I reflect now, I know that the incident in Akkala was really only the beginning. The Goddess was cruel to us, I can say without a doubt. The Prince Consort’s memory began to fade even further, month by month and day by day. The Queen would sit with him every evening, and recounted their adventures from when they were young; their days together before the Calamity, their triumph over Ganon, and the years that followed.  _Don’t you remember?_ I heard her say each night, retelling her own memories in the hopes that they would become his.  _How happy we were? Our children, the little babies? Our home, the Castle? Our lives, our long, happy lives?_

Occasionally, as at last his health began to fail as well, he would remember.

“I want to go to Hateno,” the Consort announced one day. “To where I was born.”

The Queen and Consort travelled to the eastern village alone, with only a small vanguard as an escort, and their children with them. What happened there was said to me second hand, as Zelda requested that I remain at the Castle to run things.  _I do not know how long we will need_ , she confessed.  _But I will return a widow. Do you understand, Larella?_

The final days of the Prince Consort’s life were spent in peace. It was reported to me and recounted by the Queen herself, that the entire family would breakfast together by the pond next to their cottage on the outskirts of town, and would often go into town to watch the villagers go about their busy lives. Zelda told me that, were she young and naive once more, she might have believed that Link was recovering.

In the evenings, the Queen and Consort would talk, as usual, only now Link had his own stories to tell _._ And then, after one last night spent together by the hearth, retelling each other stories of their best exploits, the Prince Consort passed in his sleep. He is one of the few recorded Hyrulean Knights to do so.

Others have noted to me how strange they found the Queen’s reaction to her husband’s death.  _She does not weep_ , they say.  _Does she not grieve?_

I know that the Queen grieves. I can see it. Even as an old woman, Zelda retained a certain radiance when Link was still alive. It is gone now. But the Queen knows truths that others do not – that strangely, her time with Link is not at an end, and never will be.  _Reincarnation_ ,  _reiteration_ : the Queen has explained it to me, but I see it simply as fate.

“So long as Hyrule lives, then Link and I will always find each other,” the Queen told me, and it is there that she found her peace.


	6. Makeout

_The following is an excerpt from the chapter titled ‘Making Up, and Out’, from ‘On the Life of Queen and Consort: An Official History of the first Queen Zelda in Hyrule following the Calamity’ by Larella of Zora’s Domain._  

It is much to my disappointment that, despite my efforts, I never could quash the rumour mill in Hyrule, and among the Hyrulean Court. People by their nature love to tell stories, and the more scandalous, the better. It is a currency, a piece of leverage, to know something that another does not. Secrets and lies; they ran rampant, and even the Queen and Consort were not immune.

Because what does a gossiping court love more than affairs of the heart?  _The Queen tires of her Prince. The Prince is restless in his life of leisure. They bicker every evening. Their children are poorly behaved. Their daughter will never be Queen!_ Nonsense, all of it.

Well, almost all of it. The Queen and Consort  _did_  bicker. Love, no matter how predestined and passionate, cannot escape the argument of living. And their young children  _did_  misbehave, as all children do. And little Zeldie, she had only just begun her training, being only seven, and so it was cruel to speak of her at all. But above all, life was not easy for the Royal family. When they were not out making public appearances, the Queen and Consort were busily managing the Kingdom, while their children were swamped with lessons and tutoring, learning swordplay and prayer, soon their collective duties overwhelmed them. They ceased being a family and became more of a band of performers; the Queen as the lead actress, and her family as her troupe.

“I was wondering if you wanted to join me on my trip to Gaponga Village,” the Prince Consort asked the Queen over family breakfast one morning. “It’ll just take the day. We’ve heard complaints of booming Lizalfos numbers.”

The Queen had been reading over some letters and gave the Prince only a cursory glance. “You know that isn’t safe,” she chided, turning him down immediately.

“Come on, Zel, just one day. When was the last time we did some real work together?”

“Real work?” the Queen raised a brow. “Battering Lizalfos into submission?”

The Prince soured. “ _Protecting our people_ , yes. It is my job –  _our_  job, after all.”

“You don’t need me with you for this, Link,” the Queen sighed, returning to her work. “And in any case, I cannot leave the Castle at such short notice.”

I could tell the Prince Consort was hurt by the words. He had a way of walling himself off, like a wounded animal retreating to safety. “Well…what if I…,” he said slowly. “What if I want you with me?”

The Queen looked up from her letters at once, her patience gone. “That’s well and good, but I have work  _here_ , Link! Don’t you understand?”

“Understand?” The Prince croaked. “Of course I understand. You…you do nothing but work!”

“Good, I’m glad you see things my way.”

The table rattled as the Prince Consort leapt to his feet, shoving his chair across the floor. The entire family jumped, myself and the children included. The little Princess even yelped. Link moved with such ferocity that it seemed the whole room shook – like all animals, he had a way of lashing out as well. “It’s always your way, isn’t it? You are  _the_ Queen. It’s never  _us_. You rule alone!”

“What are you talking about?” Zelda scoffed. “Isn’t that how it has always been, or don’t you trust my judgement anymore?”

“I do trust you, Zelda. I always will. But I don’t feel trusted. I don’t even feel like I matter!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you matter – where are you going?!”

The Prince Consort was already halfway out of the dining room, so suddenly livid that I could almost see the sweat on his brow. “You know where I’m going,” he crowed. “If you’d like to join me, just follow the trail of Lizalfos!”

I recall distinctly what little Zeldie asking me during her lessons afterwards,

“Why did that happen, Lady Larella? Don’t mother and father like each other anymore?”

I wanted to sorely to soothe the child, but I could do little more than take her golden-haired head into my hands and say, “I do not know. Love is a funny thing. Over time it can make us not seem as we truly are. I am certain your parents love each other, Princess. But perhaps, right now, they might not like each other very much.”

Link departed that very day for Gaponga Village, to the outskirts of Lanayru. Being a Knight of Hyrule, it was not uncommon for the Prince Consort to get himself into his fair share of scrapes. Zelda told me that he had scars beyond counting (though apparently not for lack of trying) and that if anything, he was lucky to be alive at all. But age was taking its toll on them both as their lives progressed, and the Prince Consort was no longer as fast or as strong as he once was. Lizalfos, on the other hand, are known for their terrifying agility and their surprising endurance. All it took was one misstep, one misjudged lance, and our Prince very nearly died that day in Gaponga, were it not for his well-trained entourage of Knights, and his sheer force of will.

The news came to us by messenger, as the Prince was forced to remain in Gaponga for one extra day to recover. He had been too slow during the fight, and the Lizalfos he was facing had buried its blade deep into his leg.  _The waters at his feet were red with blood, and yet he continued to fight_ , the messenger informed us.  _But he lives, by the Goddess. A fellow Knight, the Akkalan Inglis, finished off the ghastly beast, and then hauled the Prince to safety._

For two days and one night, as we waited for Link to return, the Queen did not sleep. She could not work and refused any visitors save her children. The Queen waited diligently by her window, watching the gates of Hyrule Castle so that she would be there the moment Link arrived. I brought her food and water for each meal, but not once did I see her eat.

When at last the Prince Consort returned, having needed to be ferried home in a wheelhouse, the Queen met him at the gates. His leg was well-bandaged, and he could not walk without the aid of a crutch, but still, he stood to meet his lady, and to apologise for any concern he caused.

I know the Queen would have rushed to him if she could – if the eyes of the Court and Castle were not upon them. Ever the actress, her face and word revealed only as much as was needed.

“There is nothing to forgive,” she said, gingerly extending a hand to her husband’s cheek. “I only wish I could have been there for you,” The Queen then gave the Prince her shoulder, and led him back to the Castle.

Sometime that evening, the Princess Zelda found me in my study, her cheeks red and her smile wide from giggling.

“I know a secret,” she told me as she climbed onto my lap. “Mother and father  _do_  like each other after all.”

“And how do you know that, little one?” I asked.

“I saw them. In mother’s drawing room,” she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Sitting on the lounge,  _kissing_. It was all slobbery and ugly, and they were so busy that they didn’t even notice me.”

“Is that so?”

“And I know I’m right because you don’t kiss someone you don’t like. You just don’t!” the Princess proclaimed.

“No, I suppose not,” I said with a laugh, gently ushering her back to her feet. “Don’t tell your parents that you saw them, Princess. It can be our little secret.”

“Our little secret,” the girl nodded, proud to have one for her own.


	7. Dreams

“Really, Larella, you can go to bed. I will watch over Mother.”

Chief Advisor Larella looked up from her writing, weary-eyed, and feeling twice as sleepy as she would admit. She smiled down at her companion; the woman she sat with was no longer the little girl in her memoir, the one who would climb onto her lap to be read to, or who had found every nook and cranny in Hyrule Castle to hide in, to avoid being taken to her lessons. That little girl had grown up to become a Queen – Queen Zelda the Second, to be precise – and had lived her own long and happy life. In private company, Larella simply called her Zeldie.

“There is no burden, I am quite content to watch over your mother,” Larella replied. She looked back down to the sleeping dowager Queen and shuffled the papers in her hands. “I couldn’t sleep in any case.”

“Still working on the history of my parents?” Zeldie pressed. “I think I might be afraid to read it. I can hardly imagine them as anything but old.”

“I admit, it surprises me that even  _you_  were once young,” Larella teased gently.

“Sixty-one is not old,” Zeldie scoffed. “Shiekah regularly live to one hundred and twenty, at least! And the Zora even longer. Look at you – Mother and I are old women both, and you are still the same, radiant Larella we’ve always known!”

“Well, time has long claws, Zeldie. None escape its reach.”

The Queen looked down at her mother, and whatever her next words had been, they were quashed on her tongue. The Queen Mother had passed on her throne only recently, and Zeldie had hoped that there would be enough time left for…for what remained. For her to feel comfortable with the weight of the Kingdom on her shoulders; for her to learn the secrets to a prosperous reign that she suspected her mother had hidden for when the time was right. But now…

“I’m sorry,” Chief Advisor Larella said quietly. “I spoke recklessly.”

“There is nothing to forgive. We both know what is coming,” Queen Zeldie reached forward, grasping her mother’s thin, wrinkled hand. “I just wish that, somehow, I could make her stay.”

Before Larella could respond, the Queen Mother suddenly stirred. Her eyes in their hollowed sockets fluttered open, and her lips parted,

“Link, Link,” she murmured, voice nothing more than a rasp. “Where is he? Where is my child?”

Zeldie pushed forward, going to her knee by the bedside. “I’m here, Mother,” she said urgently. “Your daughter, little Zelda.”

The Queen blinked away her drowsiness and beheld her daughter with an anxious expression. “Where is my boy?” she asked. “I was just holding him.”

“M-Micah?”

“No, no, there was another,” the Queen Mother insisted, lethargically scanning the bedchamber for any other visitors. The longer she spoke, the slower her speech became. “Your father held him, and then gave him to me. Link wanted to name the babe after his teacher…a…a man from Lurelin.”

The Queen shook her head. “You had only one son, Mother.”

“But I was there, I know I was… with your Father,” the Queen Mother protested, though soon her eyes grew heavy, and somehow her voice faded even further.

Zeldie ran a hand through her mother’s stringy white hair, soothing her back to sleep. “It was just a dream.”

“It was real to me, it was…just as your father is…still real…” and at that, the Queen Mother drifted back into her quiet, but portentous slumber. Despondent, and destitute from the long hours sat at her mother’s side, the Queen climbed sluggishly back into her chair, returning to Larella’s side.

“Was she speaking the truth?” Zelda asked the Chief Advisor, her tone cold and measured. “Was there another boy?”

Larella fidgeted in her chair, but could not let the words go unsaid. “I omitted it from the memoir. He was born a year after you were. He did not live.”

“Another thing she did not tell me.”

“They did not tell anyone but me,” Larella put down her papers, focusing her attention on the Queen. “Your mother never kept anything from you, at least nothing she knew you would need. Remember, she had so much less to begin with than you, almost nothing–”

“ _I know! I know!_ ” the Queen snapped, shouting a whisper so as not to wake her mother. “But she’s my mother. I still need her.” She leant forward again and grasped her mother’s frail hand once more.

After a long silence, Larella placed a gentle hand on the Queen’s shoulder. “If I may, I think that your mother makes a point. Those we have lost are not any less real to us. In dreams, they are always there, and it is their memory that remains to guide us.”

Zeldie sighed, and slowly let go of her mother’s hand. “…then I suppose I have nothing to fear,” she said.


	8. First Time

This is not my autobiography, and hence there is little space for me to write about my personal matters. Yet I want to share one thing; of all the difficulties I have encountered in my life,  _creating_ life has been among the most intense. Intense in its challenge, and in its reward. I, like the Queen, have a daughter – a little Princess of my own. Thankfully, however, I did not go into the life of a parent blind to it.

I was there the day Link and Zelda’s children were born. I watched them grow strong and tall, and graceful and regal. There is nothing quite like the anxious love that overcomes a new parent, when one becomes responsible – for the first time  _truly_  responsible – for the life of another.

The Queen and Consort were still young when their son was born. After six years on the throne, and three married to her Consort – the Court had become impatient for the Queen to produce an heir. Even in the new Hyrule, with Zelda calling for the people to move past petty concerns and to focus on rebuilding, the Court was the Court. They were gossipmongers, and sometimes little more. And so, there was much joy when the announcement was made that the Queen was expecting.

The Consort, however, seemed filled with dread. Still very much engaged with his own work across the Kingdom, Master Link put everything on hold and returned to the Castle from the moment he heard the news until the moment the child was born. He became fastidious, never leaving Zelda’s side for a moment, no matter how often she assured him that both she and the child were fine. Anxious love produces anxiousness in its own right, and this was indeed the case with Master Link.

I would often find the Consort sitting in the drawing room of an evening, usually late at night and long after the rest of the household was asleep. He would sit by the fire, unable to sleep, and waste the hours at idle work to keep his addled mind busy. Sometimes it was scribbling in the notebook, sometimes it was repairing his gear, or even just reading reports. Past midnight or in the hours before dawn, that’s where he would be.

“I know you told me not to worry,” I said to him one evening, finding him by the dwindling hearth with a notebook in hand. “But a lack of sleep often exacerbates these things, Your Highness.”

Link sighed, placing his notebook in his lap. He said nothing, which even to a close confidant could mean anything.

“Are you afraid that something will happen to her?” I asked, unable to broach the topic fully.  _That she could die_.

“No,” Link answered immediately, a hint of a smile on his lips. “She’s much too strong for that.”

“Then what?”

Link did not speak.

“Tell me,” I urged. “Or…or I will wake the Queen.”

“Fine, fine!” he relented. The Consort thumbed through his notebook until he found the page he sought, and spoke as though reading aloud from his writings, “‘ _I don’t know how to be a father_ ’” he said. “There. On the first page. I wrote it down the day that she told me.”

“Nobody  _knows_ , Your Highness, especially not about being a parent,” I tried to reassure him, but his only response was to sink further into his chair. “You will learn. There is a first time for everything.”

“What if I’m not ready? What if the child hates me?” A vacant, far-away expression crossed his face. “Or if…if I hate him?”

“You don’t know that,” I said, though I was unsettled by the conviction in the Consort’s voice.

He shrugged. “I hated my father. For a time. A long time, actually.”

I opened my mouth to speak once more, but there was no opportunity. The door to the drawing room creaked open, and there she was. Swathed in white, in a long nightgown that, loose though it was, swelled at the belly. Link was forthright, shooting up from his chair to meet her.  

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Are  _you_?” The Queen said quickly. The Consort halted where he stood; she had heard everything. “Were you going to tell me any of this?”

The Consort was like a child caught stealing. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he murmured.

“Worry me? Don’t you think I’m worried already?” The Queen frowned. “I don’t know if I’m ready either, you know.  _And_  I worry for the child. A boy will have his father’s legend to live up to, and a girl,” The Queen held her right hand up to the light from the fire, revealing the dim glowing mark – the three golden triangles. “A girl will have to contend with this  _power_  of her inheritance.”

“I know. I know,” Link drew her in close, letting her lean her weary body against his. “I’m sorry. I was just afraid… afraid to feel afraid. I should have told you.”

The Queen held her husband tight, in what seemed like acceptance of his motley apology. Dawn light was growing, and so I approached the pair, breaking their short reverie.

“Go to bed, both of you. If you won’t sleep, then talk, at least,” I told them.

I never found out if Zelda was able to quell Link’s fears, but the day that Micah of Hyrule was born, I had my answer. The Consort held his son in his arms, a babe with blue-green eyes and angel hair of golden white, and was so enamoured that I thought he might never let the boy go. If Link was afraid, it was for a different reason – afraid that he might not be able to contain the love he felt for their child, or that he may never be able to express the extent of that love. It was a new anxiousness; one predicated on a need to be our best selves, rather than the fear of being our worst.

It was not two years later that the Princess was born. Another Zelda, with golden hair like her brother. The Queen’s second pregnancy was much easier, and not once did I find the Consort on one of his late-night vigils – in fact, as I recall, he even left the Castle to deal with some highwaymen who had been terrorising traders in Faron. But as before, he was there to welcome the child into the world, this time with their son Micah as well. I vividly recall that they sat huddled around the Queen on her bed as she held little Zelda, and watched for the babe to open her eyes. And when those deep green eyes finally met the world, the Queen said,  

“Hello, Zelda - yes, that’s you! The new Princess Zelda. You have much work ahead of you Zeldie. You’ll be Queen someday. But we will be here to help you. We will always be here.” At that moment, the Queen locked eyes with her Consort and gave him a weak but warm smile. They were a family then, and I cannot for the life of me think of an image more precious.


	9. Costume

_The following is an excerpt from the chapter titled ‘Costumes Worn’, from ‘On the Life of Queen and Consort: An Official History of the first Queen Zelda in Hyrule following the Calamity’ by Larella of Zora’s Domain._

Inheritance. It is a strange concept; one fundamentally intertwined with family life, and one that often threatens to destroy it. Inheritance almost tore down the Zoran royal institution, and when the Hylian royal family was still in its infancy, inheritance reared its ugly head yet again. Our inheritance forces us to talk of our destiny, of our purpose, of our death.

In Hylian royal tradition, inheritance is matrilineal. In other words, a younger girl will inherit the throne over her older brother. This is to preserve what is only known as the ‘sealing power’, an ability passed down through the women of the royal bloodline. This was the case with the Queen and Consort’s children; Princess Zelda, two years younger than her brother Micah, was indeed first in line.

I warned the Queen, for many years.  _There may come a time_ , I said,  _when your son will feel that tradition has left him behind_. For many years, the Queen professed to heed my words. She had not, of course, and while Micah understood  _why_  he would not inherit, I suppose no one had ever fully explained  _what_  it meant for him. Was he to fade into obscurity, outranked by his little sister? Would history forget him? Would his family forget him?

The Queen interpreted Micah’s growing resentment towards his sister as harmless sibling rivalry but soon made it made itself known as a deep seeded jealousy. This jealousy was to come to its head just as the Princess was preparing for her life as the next Queen, spurred on strangely enough, by a new dress.

The gown was custom made by the royal tailor in the richest fabrics that could be found from Hateno all the way to Hebra. Blue velvet, white trimmings, golden embroidery, rubies and sapphires and all kinds of gemstone that together said one and only one thing;  _this dress is made for a Queen._ And indeed, with the dress worn, little Princess Zeldie was her mother’s mirror, costumed to perfection for the throne that was her destiny.

Her brother was less impressed than I.

“I suppose you look the part, at least,” the Prince said dryly upon seeing her at dinner.

“As is necessary,” the Queen added, adjusting Zeldie’s small golden crown, hands fretting with the impatience of a proud but anxious mother.

Micah rolled his eyes. “Of course. _So much_  is necessary for the new Queen.”

“I’m not Queen yet, Micah,” Zeldie protested, not sensing his hostility. “It’s just a dress.”

“And it’s just for  _you_ , another lavish expense,”

“What is the matter with you? Can’t you be happy for me?”

“Is that a royal order, Your Majesty?”

The Prince Consort’s voice boomed across the table, and it seemed as if the very room froze. “Micah, Zelda, enough.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the Prince was not deterred. “The golden one here just gets all of the special treatment and attention and clothes because she  _apparently_  has some great power–”

“I am  _working_  on that, Micah!” the Princess interjected.

“—and what do I get?”

The Queen spoke up, at once furious and baffled at the scene unfolding before her. “A privileged, peaceful life, Micah. The opportunity to do whatever you want!”

“But not to inherit,” the Prince spat, casting a cruel eye to his younger sister. “I don’t get  _everything_ on a platter.”

Both the Queen and Consort spoke at once to quell their son’s rage, but their words were not heard; the boy had already stormed from the room. While the Queen stayed to comfort her distraught daughter, the Prince Consort departed in search of Micah, finding the young Prince in the empty training yard. I was told later that they spoke at length, with Micah revealing that he had felt his jealousy growing within him for some time and that he had tried his hardest to silence it.  

“Neither of us can change tradition,” the Prince Consort purportedly said. “But we can live within its bounds. And trust me, ruling would not make you happy. It has brought your mother and I little joy.”

Confronted with the fullness of reality, Prince Micah at last relented. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “I’m not jealous that Zeldie has to wear that crown.”

“It’s heavy alright,” the Consort agreed. He gave his son a nudge and said, “Might fit on  _your_  big head though.”

On his father’s advice, Micah eventually joined the Order of Hyrulean Knights. He was accepted quickly, on account of his extensive training from his father, and his natural agility and strength. Soon this became the way of things; Micah trained with a sword, while little Zeldie trained with her mind. The sealing power had not awoken in the girl yet, and since the circumstances around Zelda’s awakening were so unique, the Queen was unsure, in truth, how to teach her daughter.

A divide grew through the family then, the fracture from their argument over dinner having never fully healed. In their youth, the siblings had been inseparable, but now, they barely spoke. Zeldie wore the regalia of a Queen, and Micah the regalia of a Knight, and each were far too proud to see the other as a person, rather than role. Both Queen and Consort privately decided that their children would grow out of their difficulties, but it was not until one final tragedy struck that they did.

After being accepted into the Knight Order, the Prince was given a special charm by his father; a necklace in the shape of the royal crest, made in a muted gold.  _Serve your family, Micah_ , Link told him.  _But most importantly, serve your home_. The young Knight wore it with pride, soon becoming known amongst his peers as  _The Gilded Knight_ , for his golden hair and golden necklace. Micah laughed off the name, but secretly revelled in the infamy. All the residents of the town knew Micah’s name and face – even the children admired him.

One fateful day, Micah was on patrol through the outskirts of Castle Town, with an elder, more seasoned Knight, named Rory. It was then that a rambunctious child, perhaps no older than ten, bull-rushed the Prince and stole from his neck the golden pendant. The Prince gave chase immediately, hunting the child down and cornering him in an alley.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry!” the boy begged. “It’s my father, he’s too sick to work, we have no money. You’re the Gilded Knight and so–”

The Prince did not listen. He clocked the boy hard across the temple with the hilt of his sword and stole back his necklace without a word. But as he turned to exit the alley, he was met with his mentor.

“Unbuckle your sword,” the elder Knight said.

“Excuse me?” Micah replied.

“ _Unbuckle your sword_ ,” the Knight Rory repeated. He went into the alleyway to help the child stand. “The boy was innocent, a victim. You are no longer part of this order. Unbuckle your sword.”

But the Prince did not do as he was told. Instead, he fled from that alleyway, fled as far and fast as he could, his sword still in hand. When the news reached the Castle, it was the young Princess who took it the hardest.

“If I had been kinder to him, he might not have…” she looked down at her beautiful new dress. “It isn’t right. We aren’t a family without Micah. What do we do?”

At first, no one spoke, for no one had the answer. “I do not know,” the Queen finally said.

“Me either,” the Consort added. Both had been blindsided by their son’s actions. Neither had ever dreamed of such a rebellion from their own kind.

I had many duties, as Chief Advisor; facilitate a peaceful household, keep the Queen’s affairs in order, be a bastion of support when called upon. Chief of all, it should come as no surprise, was my duty to  _advise_. And so, I was the one with an answer.

“We wait,” I said. “When Micah comes home, he will do so as himself.”


	10. Tribute to A Fallen Hero

_The following is an excerpt from the chapter titled ‘Heroes’ Return’, from ‘On the Life of Queen and Consort: An Official History of the first Queen Zelda in Hyrule following the Calamity’ by Larella of Zora’s Domain._

Royal life is a privileged life, but a cursed one. It supplants us, forcing us to hide our true selves and become not what we want to be but what duty calls on us to be; the young Princess made into a hardened Queen, the carefree Knight made into a diligent Consort. This is the life that I watched Queen Zelda and her Prince Consort Link lead. Neither of them wanted it, but they embraced it wholly, triumphs and hardships alike; they embraced it together as a partnership, bound together as artery to vein.

When their son disappeared, they faced that hardship together as well.  Young Prince Micah, as wild as his father and as stubborn as his mother, took flight from Hyrule Castle Town after harming an innocent child. He stole with him a Royal sword and a Hylian shield and was not seen anywhere in the Kingdom for almost two weeks. Independent word reached us that he had made it as far south as Lurelin, or as far northeast as Deep Akkala, and so we could not draw a conclusion as to his whereabouts. Even so, I urged his parents, fervently, to wait for their son. He was not in danger, being a Knight as he was, as well as youthful and strong. And to the Queen and Consort’s credit, they listened. They lived their lives as their subjects would have expected; with their heads held high, and their faces bright, leading their Kingdom in the light even when their own lives had become thrown into darkness.

When Micah had been gone almost one month, the most important day of the Hyrulean Calendar came around; Champion Day. It was the day when the Kingdom came together to memorialise and grieve the Calamity, but also to celebrate the peace that had been achieved following Ganon’s defeat. This particular Champion Day would be the one hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary of the Calamity, a milestone if there ever were one. The preparations could not halt on account of the Prince, and so they did not.  Queen Zelda busied herself with outfitting Castle Town for the celebration, while Link spent his time preparing the Knights and soldiers for their parade through the streets. Princess Zelda was not idle either; her powers had not yet awoken, and so she spent her days at work throughout the Castle and the Kingdom. One day Zeldie would be at her studies, learning the ancient legends of Hyrule. The next, she would be among the people, listening to their stories, their needs, so that the Crown might help them. The Princess did all of this because the Queen had decided that the best path for Zeldie to achieve her birthright was to apply herself in any way that she could.  _Prayer_ , the Queen told her daughter,  _is not always enough_.

Though they did pray; on their own, as a family. I often found the Queen weeping in her study, with her Consort at her side, a steadying arm around her shoulder, whispering gentle but ultimately fruitless words of consolation.  _He will come back. He will._ Sometimes it was the Princess who wept, sometimes even, it was the Prince Consort. But despite all, they pressed on, until that fateful Champion Day arrived.

To say it was a celebration is to undersell Champion Day entirely. It was a festival of life, of triumph over evil, of the prosperity of Hyrule. Despite the highs and lows, the people of Hyrule knew they lived in a golden age and were proud to their very brims of their Queen and Consort. And they converged to Castle Town to make it known. People from all corners of Hyrule, and from every race, arrived at the town gates. The celebrations began with a parade through the town, and lead into a feast ran the entire length of the main street of Castle Town, followed by dancing in the square that lasted well into the night.

When at last the night was almost over, with the dawn still a few hours off, the Queen and Consort lead their people to the Sacred Grounds, as was now a tradition. They met at the Sacred Grounds as they had with their Champions those many years ago, as they themselves had met, and together Link and Zelda honoured the heroes of Hyrule; the living, the fallen, and the lost. Hand in hand, the Queen and Consort lit a single blue lantern, and let it soar high into the sky.

As the ceremony progressed, the Princess kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, looking south across Hyrule Field itself. She did not look away, even as the people began to file back home – even after her own parents turned to depart. Only I remained at her side.

“Princess, it is beyond late,” I counselled. “Let us return home.”

“No,” she said immediately, squinting through the darkness before us. She seemed to be seeing something that I did not. Without warning, she gasped and burst forward.

“He’s here!” she cried, running towards the fields beyond. “Mother, Father! He’s here! Micah is here! It’s too dark, he can’t see!”

At that moment, the Princess raised her right hand high, and I recall nothing more than a single, blinding light. It surged out from her hand, searing brighter than the high sun – her birthright, the sacred golden power. Awoken not by the need to save her Kingdom, or by some great evil, but the love for her brother and the simple wish to show him the way home.  

From under radiant light, Micah emerged into the Sacred Grounds – a little worn and muddied, with the smatterings of a beard on his face, the sword, and shield that he had stolen still in his possession. The Queen and Consort had heard their daughter’s shouts and came running back to see Zeldie throwing her arms around Micah, both children laughing with joy.

“You’ve grown strong!” Micah said to his sister. “And look, your power!”

“We can think about that later,” Zeldie hugged her brother tighter. “You’re here!”

When the Queen and Consort approached, the children’s smiles faded. Micah separated from his sister and unbuckled the stolen sword and shield.

“I saved a family from a lizalfos with these. In a village near Zora’s Domain. They asked my name, and I said I had none,” he handed the weapons over to his father. “I did not deserve one. As I do not deserve these.”

“You will, in time,” Link said. “But, for now, know that we are proud of you, no matter what.  _Both_  of you.”

“We never made that clear,” the Queen added. “And we’re sorry, Micah. Will you come home, at least?”

The boy nodded, and not a second later, his sister had thrown her arms around him again. The Prince laughed, nearly thrown off balance, but little Zeldie did not let up. She gathered up her father and mother too, and the family held each other close. I knew then that little could separate them; no storm or tragedy or calamity come. Destiny had handed Link and Zelda a cruel hand, but it favoured them with their family.

And then, in an act of kindness that I will never forget, the Princess extended her hand to me.

“You too, Larella,” she said, pulling me into the embrace. “You belong here too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading/giving kudos/commenting! I really enjoyed writing this fic! 
> 
> If you are interested in more BOTW Zelink works by me, my main series is [Champions and Beasts.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/747456)

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on [Tumblr](rachaeltad-writes.tumblr.com) where I post flash fiction and prompts that don't make it to AO3.


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